If we had stuck to our plan of charging people a dime for us to stop signing for 1 minute, we might have made enough for a trip to New Zealand. Instead, we sang our way to at least some gas money to go to the beach in a few weeks. YAY!
Here are a few pics from our selling soiree!
Tiff's signs were of the more southern "yard" variety, and mine were of the northern "garage" variety. Both types did the trick, but mine were technically false advertising. Many apologies.
In case it's hard to tell in this next photo, the shoes do go down the entire length of the porch railing. We kept trying to find a Cinderella who wears a size 6.5-7 shoe. I loved how Tiff would immediately ask anyone who came up the driveway if they fit this description. Their reactions were a continuous reminder that my feet are freakishly elfin.
All hail Tiff's monkey bread!!! If my parents hadn't been there, I would have totally made out with this bread. Instead I ate about half of it while passing it mental love notes.
Leigh showed up for a bit with sweet pup nugget, Gus! Since I last saw him, he has apparently begun eating trucks because he's on a fast train to giant town.
At about 10:15am, I was told we had reached an "acceptable" time to start drinking mimosas. Champagne, after 10am....beer, after 1pm....hard liquor, after 4pm....cracked meth balls, after 2am. At least I think that's what my mom would say. Also, below you can see where I inherited my muppet face.
Tiff examines my "get a man" shoes. Currently, I can be found wearing shoes from the "I give up" and the "these don't make me want to cut off my feet" collections. Ahhhhhhh.
Tiff made the BEST signs. This one may just be my favorite. You know...FANCY!
We thought anyone who made fun of our stuff should have to pay more. I think we owe ourselves about 20 grand.
Here's me and Tiff modeling some of our sassy accessory items. Dork twin powers...activate!!!
White sand and blue water...here we come!!!
2 comments:
Hey, Wendy was a size 6.5-7 until she had both kids, then her feet grew to about 7.5. Nobody warns you about that - that with each childbirth, your feet grow half a size.
I was a size ten before we had the kids. Now I'm a 12.
it should be called "monster bread" from now one.
no reason.
just oughta.
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